Chapter Forty-Five
Redeemable Heretics
Naruto blinked slowly, the blur in his eyes fading as the void sharpened into impossible clarity. Space stretched infinitely around him, a black sea pricked with faint stars. Distant planets hovered close enough to touch, their surfaces detailed as though he were peering through a microscope, yet impossibly far, floating in a dark nothingness.
His vision extended across light-years, beyond the comprehension of mortals, yet every object, every shimmer of cosmic dust, was rendered with exacting precision. Even the faint glow of galaxies spiraling in the distance was like the soft gleam of fireflies on a summer night.
He lowered his gaze and took in his form. A loose gray cloak drifted weightless around him, the folds brushing against nothing. Underneath, the familiar orange tunic bore the red spiral upon his stomach, the symbol of his identity. Charcoal trousers billowed, suspended in defiance of any gravity. A crimson sash wrapped around his waist, the belt underneath secure. The ensemble felt more like armor now, less about clothing and more an extension of himself, a uniform for someone who existed beyond the mortal plane.
He lifted his hands and touched his head. His fox ears, once large and awkward in Hell, were now smaller, sharper, more foxlike than ever, twitching instinctively. He flexed his fingers: alabaster nails reflected the starlight, white and flawless against his skin. Even his wings, broad and magnificent, adjusted perfectly to the void, catching no wind, facing no resistance, yet holding him steady as though gravity and momentum were toys he could command with a thought.
He exhaled slowly. He had been remade. Whole. Grand. Limitless.
Then, awareness blossomed around him — every familiar soul he had ever loved, fought beside, or lost. Haku, Bee, his son, and all of them. He did not hear them in order or priority; they were a chorus, overlapping, distinct yet blended into one omniscient presence. Bee's hands flipped a frying pan, the smell of sizzling food wafting into the warmth of their small home. His son's tiny hands reached for the counter, giggles spilling into the air as he demanded more burgers.
The images flashed with startling immediacy, vivid and alive. He could sense the smallest details—the tilt of Bee's head as she hummed a tune, the way sunlight streamed lazily across the kitchen tiles, the soft tug of the boy's socks as he bounced impatiently.
Naruto almost reached out, a flicker of desire to interrupt their lives and announce his presence. He halted. To do so now would invite complications. Shadows lurked among the light: fallen angels, heretics, unseen enemies cloaked in secrecy. He could not reveal himself until he had measured the path forward. Patience would be his strength. Strategy, his ally.
His attention turned outward. In the distance, a black hole shimmered faintly, an abyss five light-years away, its presence bending the starlight around it. Close was meaningless in the vastness of space; yet even there, he could pierce the veil of reality, perceiving beyond the event horizon, where nothing mortal could hope to tread.
A figure waited. She was a young jackal woman—her short, ashen obsidian fur gleaming under the distant stars. Thick cotton bandages wound tightly across her chest and thighs, leaving much of her toned frame exposed, adorned with golden and blue makeup that glimmered against the darkness. Tattoos snaked across her skin, reflected in intricate patterns in her fur that spoke of ancient tradition and divine craft. Her black hair framed her face in a wavy bob cut layered with braids, traditional yet wild, moving as if caught in a non-existent breeze. Her ears were pierced with rings of gold and silver, catching the light like stars.
Even in the immensity of space, she held herself regal and alert, her gaze flicking toward him with golden-over-gray eyes alive with curiosity and mischief.
His arrival was instantaneous. Time and distance had no meaning; the black hole had rippled and shifted, and suddenly he was before her. The suddenness did not jolt him; his perception remained absolute, every particle in his surroundings accounted for.
"Hey, pup, want to get something to eat?"
"Yeah! I want burgers!"
"Anything for my little prince."
The voices of Beelzebub and their son pulled at him, reminders of home, ephemeral and warm. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, grounding himself against the onslaught of reality. Divine senses were a blessing, but they could scatter focus if not carefully wielded.
He opened his eyes to the jackal woman again. A playful smirk lifted the corner of her lips, feral yet refined, reminding him faintly of Loona, yet her regal presence remained unmistakable.
"You're quite optimistic for a heretic," Naruto remarked, stepping closer, the void bending subtly around him as he approached.
Her laughter was light, airy, and confident. "We are ageless creations of God. There is little that can break our minds," she said, rising from her place as though gravity itself had abandoned her. "And as one of the few seen as not too far from redemption, I have every reason to be excited. Your arrival means my sentence nears its end."
Naruto studied her, his divine senses confirming the honesty behind her playful grin. She believed every word she spoke. Even with the hint of resentment she carried, which he can tell is toward the Darkness, she was sincere. That alone was enough to earn his trust.
"So you know who I am?" he asked quietly, though his gaze remained firm.
"Of course," she said, eyes shining. "Father promised that my punishment would end once God's Future arrived. You are him…or the start of him."
"The start?" Naruto tilted his head. He had believed himself the Child of the prophecy, but this suggested there were steps yet unfinished.
"You are not worshipped, assumed dead, I suspect," she replied, gesturing over him as if showing the immensity of space itself. "You are a fledgling bird, not fully grown. Until your presence is truly acknowledged across Earth, Heaven, and Hell, you remain the beginning, not the culmination, of what is promised."
He nodded, understanding. "And who will be my herald? You?"
Her smile widened, teasing, confident. "Only if you ask nicely," she replied, leaning slightly forward, her braids swaying with a motion that seemed almost liquid.
Naruto snorted softly, amused, not in denial but in acknowledgment of her spirit. "And that's what you want?"
"Of course," she said simply. "It is my freedom, my reward for trusting in God's promise. It will allow me to announce the new heavenly realm."
He studied her for a long moment. "And if I chose differently? If I wished to destroy everything instead?"
"Then that is your choice," she answered evenly, her dark eyes meeting his lighter gaze calmly. "You are the final judge, the decider of creation's fate. All I ask is that, should you choose destruction, you also take the Darkness with you. That is the only thing I request."
Naruto's gaze lingered on her, divine perception confirming her sincerity. She truly believed, wholly and without deceit. That was enough.
"Very well," he said at last, extending his hand. "Anubis, you are free to follow me."
The cuffs binding her to the black hole fell away with two sharp clicks. Space itself seemed to ripple, a subtle distortion as though reality acknowledged the release. Her hands lifted, and she flexed her fingers, savoring freedom with a small, satisfied laugh. Then she was at his side, arms wrapping around him in a sudden, affectionate embrace.
"Thank you, iry-pat," she murmured.
"Your punishment is over," he said softly, ruffling her hair. "Now show me that you deserved it."
She stepped back, eyes twinkling, a grin spreading across her face. "I intend to. And if I am good, perhaps you'll let me show you the rest of the surprises God left behind for us."
"Can't you see I'm running? Said I need a place to hide…"
The radio hummed from the corner shelf, its speaker crackling faintly under the soft, mournful melody. Haku's pen scratched against paper, each stroke neat, controlled, as he finished the week's orders. His dark eyes flicked between lists and notes, half-reading, half-singing under his breath. The restaurant's hum was gone now—the laughter, the clinking glasses, the rhythm of the night life replaced by silence and the radio's lonely tune.
"I've gotta ask you something, could you please let me inside?"
The words fit the room too well. Haku exhaled, setting his pen aside. He rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes, staring at the inventory sheet. His handwriting was sharp, precise, but his gaze unfocused, drifting somewhere far away.
"Just let me explain, no I wouldn't tell you lies. I know you'll understand if you let me stay the night…"
He reached for another folder, the edges of each document worn from years of use. The calligraphy on the labels wasn't his—it belonged to someone with steadier hands and infinite patience. The careful loops and strokes pulled a pang from his chest.
I miss you, Naruto.
The thought landed like a stone in still water. He swallowed, forcing his focus back to the present, to the order sheets, the inventory, the dull rhythm of business. The restaurant—Get Wasted and Get Out—had survived the loss, somehow. He'd stepped down from bartender to manager after Naruto and Stephen vanished, and Husk had quietly taken his place behind the counter without complaint. Haku never said it aloud, but he was grateful.
Tayuya still worked the dish pit, her silence speaking volumes. The clang of her washing had a hollow rhythm now, echoing loss more than resilience. Charlie had returned to her family after that long, losing fight. Helsa had gone home too, bound for her inheritance and the suffocating duties that came with it.
Two new hires had filled their places—a teenage punk girl who greeted guests with a toothy grin, and a fallen exterminator who called herself Vaggie. The girl had been one of Naruto's rescues during the last Extermination; she'd taken the job to repay that kindness. Vaggie had become their new chef, quiet and diligent, learning every recipe and adding her own careful variations.
The restaurant lived on. It breathed. But to Haku, it felt like it was waiting—just as he was.
He finished the last order and set it aside for Henroin to collect later that evening. Two days for delivery, enough time for the next business week. His hand paused on the edge of the paper, fingers trembling slightly.
"Would you love me more, if I killed someone for you? Would you hold my hand? They're the same ones that I used when I killed someone for you…"
The radio's words fell soft and haunting in the dim office. Haku's throat tightened. He rose from the desk and moved toward the filing cabinet, its metal surface cool beneath his palm. He pulled it open, scanning the tidy rows of folders. Each one was labeled in that same elegant script, precise and unhurried. He brushed a finger over the handwriting, the motion tender, reverent.
He missed him more than he'd ever admit aloud.
Haku found the folder he needed and shut the drawer quietly. He sat back down, flipping through the pages. Inventory tallies, shift schedules, handwritten notes—Naruto's system was flawless. It was functional, balanced, practical. Like him.
He blinked rapidly, vision blurring. Tears burned the corners of his eyes before he realized they'd formed. He turned away from the papers, pressing his sleeve to his face, but the tears fell anyway.
"I miss him too."
The voice—clear, gentle, melodic—startled him. He froze, heart hammering, and looked up.
A dove sat on the desk before him. Its feathers gleamed like fresh snow in the dim light. The air around it shimmered faintly, heavy with warmth and calm. Its eyes, dark and endless, watched him patiently.
"Spirit?" Haku whispered.
"Yes." The dove's voice carried like a bell tone, each word soft yet resonant.
Haku leaned forward, barely daring to breathe. "What are you doing here? You left when Naruto died." His voice broke, the next words trembling. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"You know my duty was beyond yours," the dove said, the tone neither defensive nor cold—only patient. "I am sorry."
Haku tried to hold back the sob, but it broke through anyway. He turned away, wiping his face roughly, anger and sorrow twisting together. "I don't get it," he said shakily. "I did everything you told me to. I followed you honestly. I believed. And he still died."
Spirit hopped closer, claws clicking softly against the wood. "I know," it said simply. "It was one of many things that had to happen. Once it began, there was nothing to stop it."
"But why?"
The dove sighed, a note of birdsong woven through the sound. "Father, Son, and I chose not to interfere. What Naruto chooses—what happens to him—is beyond our correction. His path must be his own."
Haku's jaw tightened. "I could have stopped it," he whispered. "I could have saved him."
"Then you would have denied him his truth," Spirit answered gently. "He is more than what he was. More than a Sinner, more than your friend. He is something far greater now."
Haku's voice cracked. "Couldn't that have happened without the torture? Without losing him to the heretic angels?"
Spirit studied him with a gaze that held both sorrow and pride. "When I took you under my wing in Heaven, I saw the devotion in you. I knew you would follow him with your whole heart. And you did. I failed to prepare you for the weight of that loyalty. For that, I am sorry. But you did not fail. He lives."
Haku's breath hitched. "What?"
"He lives again, Haku," Spirit said, the words falling like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "That is why I am here. He has begun to awaken—to learn his power. He seeks the imprisoned angels, his messengers. Soon he will return. And when he does, it will be your time to stand beside him again."
Haku stared, wide-eyed, his tears suspended halfway down his cheeks. "He…he lives?"
"Yes." The dove's tone warmed with quiet joy. "After five years, he has reformed. Much sooner than even we expected." It fluttered forward, wings outstretched, and landed gently on his hand. The weight was light, but the touch radiant with warmth. "Do not weep anymore. Rejoice. The time of waiting is almost over."
For a long moment, Haku could only stare. His lips parted, trembling with the effort to form words. Then he laughed—a broken, breathless sound that melted into another sob. He pressed his free hand to his face, tears spilling freely now.
"He's back," he whispered, voice cracking with disbelief and relief all at once. "He's really back."
Spirit trilled softly, a melodic echo of joy. "Yes, he is. And soon he will call for you again. Be ready."
Haku nodded, still shaking. He lifted the dove higher, gazing at the shimmer of its feathers. The light caught the edges like gold, dazzling against the dull office walls.
"Any time now will be nothing," he said, a smile breaking through his tears. "Nothing at all to wait for, knowing he's coming back."
The dove's song filled the quiet, pure and resonant. It was the sound of renewal, of faith made whole again. Haku let it wash over him, his heart lighter than it had been in years. The office, once dim and gray, seemed brighter now, the air warmer. Even the music on the radio had changed—soft chords rising in harmony with Spirit's trill.
Haku looked at the stack of papers, the tidy handwriting, the still-half-empty desk that had once been Naruto's. For the first time since the day he died, the emptiness didn't hurt. It was only space—space waiting to be filled again.
Spirit's wings spread, light trailing from the tips like dust caught in sunbeams. "He walks a new path now, but his heart has not changed. Nor has yours. That is why you will meet again."
"I'll be ready," Haku said softly.
"I know you will."
With that, the dove leapt from his hand. It glowed faintly as it ascended, circling once before vanishing into a burst of white light that left only warmth behind.
Haku sat in the glow that lingered, the scent of feathers and sunlight fading slowly. He turned to the radio, still playing its final chorus.
"Would you love me more, if I killed someone for you? Would you hold my hand? They're the same ones that I used when I killed someone for you…"
The song carried on in the empty room, eventually dissolving into static as it ended. Haku smiled faintly, wiping the last of his tears away.
"Yeah," he murmured to the empty room. "I would have done anything for you."
Then he turned off the radio, straightened the papers, and began preparing for tomorrow. The world felt lighter. Hope, long buried beneath grief, stirred again—quiet but alive.
Naruto was back, and for Haku that was all that mattered. End of chapter. This is the end of the fic it was last updated October 6th. I'll add more when there's more chapters to add